


Homecoming

by nowwhateinstein



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, Bill Scully Redemption, Christmas, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff, Holidays, MSR, Smut, William fic, canon divergence - season 9
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:33:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28095471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nowwhateinstein/pseuds/nowwhateinstein
Summary: On Christmas Eve, Scully visits her childhood home with William and encounters a mysterious stranger. Bill Jr. finally redeems himself.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 19
Kudos: 73





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The bulk of this story was written before the The X-Files revival premiered. It's situated sometime in Season 9, but diverges from there. 
> 
> Like Scully, I too am the daughter of a Naval Officer - it’s one of the many reasons I identify so strongly with her character. Many of Scully’s childhood memories in this story are drawn from my own experiences living at the Naval Academy (aka “the Yard”) as a kid. And yes: the Ho Chi Minh Trail does truly exist as described.
> 
> Also, I realize Scully is teaching at Quantico at this point in the series, but in my world, Skinner is still her direct superior.

December 15, 2001  
Naval Ethics 101, US Naval Academy  
Annapolis, MD  
12:30 pm

“That’s it for today. A reminder that your final exam is next Monday at 1300. Do not be late. Class dismissed.”

A room of students in black uniforms rose from their seats in unison, their arms held stiffly at their sides, eyes staring straight ahead as they respectfully waited for Commander Bill Scully, Jr. to leave the room.

Bill was greeted with a blast of frigid air as he exited Bancroft Hall. December had arrived in Annapolis mildly enough, but now, with ten days left until Christmas, Old Man Winter was making his presence felt. The low temperatures didn’t prevent the Brigade of Midshipmen from gathering for the Noon Meal Formation, however. Two hundred midshipmen stood smartly at attention in their black winter coats on Tecumseh Court, waiting to march into the Hall for the noon meal. The daily display usually drew a sizable crowd of curious tourists, but today he noticed only a few hardy souls. The weather was certainly a factor, but the increased security after the terrorist attacks in September probably had more to do with the smaller than normal crowd. 

Bill had no intention of sticking around to watch the performance; he’d spent his fair share of time marching around T-Court when he was a midshipmen twenty years ago. And Tara was making split pea soup for lunch. He didn’t want to be late for that.

“Commander Scully?” came a voice behind him. Bill turned around to see a bearded, well-dressed man standing in front of him.

“Can I help you?” The man didn’t look like a tourist; perhaps he was a visiting professor or a civilian working for the Navy.

“My name is John Byers. I’m a friend of your sister, Agent Dana Scully, and her former partner, Fox Mulder.” His manner of speaking was consistent with his well-groomed appearance, but Bill tensed at the mention of Mulder’s name; with the obvious exception of his sister and his new nephew, hardly anything good came of an encounter with someone associated with Mulder. 

“What can I do for you?” His words were polite, but he was unable to keep the chilly edge from his voice. 

“I’m here on behalf of Agent Mulder.” Bill’s eyes narrowed at this. “He asked me to deliver you a message.” Byers handed him a CD case. 

He turned it over, examining it. It was blank. He glared at the man. “He doesn’t have the decency to call, or even email me? He uses a middleman?” 

“Mulder explains everything in his message on that CD,” Byers responded, clearly uncomfortable with Bill’s tone. 

Bill frowned and looked back down at the CD in his hand. He hadn’t believed Dana when she’d told them that Mulder had left the FBI and taken a special assignment overseas, even after the attacks in September. But he knew enough of his sister’s history with the man to know that asking her where Mulder had really gone - and why - would be a futile effort. He’d adopted his own personal policy of don’t ask, don’t tell: the less he knew about the whereabouts and doings of Fox Mulder, the better for all involved. To have this stranger approach him here, in a place that was - for all purposes - his home, on behalf of Mulder, threw him off-balance. He glanced back to Byers, trying to gauge his role in all of this.

“I’ll be here at the same time tomorrow to relay your response to him,” Byers said, clearly still nervous, but confident enough to deliver his final line. He turned and walked quickly away before Bill had the chance to protest. 

******  
December 15, 2001  
Scully Residence  
36 Upshur Road, US Naval Academy  
8:34 pm

Bill closed the door to his study and sat down at the computer desk. From his briefcase, he pulled out the CD the man, Byers, had given him. He tapped the corner of the CD case thoughtfully on the desk.

He’d always admired Dana’s self-sufficiency and fierce intellect - both proud hallmarks of generations of Scully women. He therefore found her dogged loyalty to Mulder and his crazy quest to prove the existence of little green men difficult to fathom. Still, he had to admit that the love his sister had for the man was genuine, as much as it baffled him; he’d watched as she buried Mulder (or what everyone thought was Mulder; it was too fantastic for him to believe) over a year ago, only to have him mysteriously resurrect months later. That episode was more than enough to convince Bill of her devotion to the man. Whether Mulder was worthy of that devotion was another matter entirely.

That Mulder was the father of his nephew Bill took as a given. When he, Tara, and Maggie went to visit Dana a few days after William’s birth, it was simultaneously the happiest and saddest he’d ever seen his sister. The joy she took in her newborn son was offset by the jarring announcement that Mulder had left for an “overseas assignment” with the Bureau. He’d nearly gone through the roof when she’d told them. 

“Abandonment” would’ve been a better term for what Mulder had done, he’d thought at the time, but their mother - her perception honed from years of heated family arguments - had taken him aside before he’d had the opportunity to tell Dana that she and William were better off without the sorry son-of-a-bitch around.

“Wherever Fox may have gone, I know he did it for the good of his family,” Maggie had told him, gripping his arm with an intensity that matched the fierceness of her voice. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her this angry. For a moment, he was reduced to a ten year-old being shamed by his mother. 

“He left in order to protect them,” she’d continued. “You, of all people, should know what that’s like. Dana needs our support right now, Bill.” 

Bill inserted the CD into the drive. A few moments later, a man’s face appeared on the screen. It had been nearly a year since Bill had last seen Mulder, but behind the unkempt beard and long hair, he recognized Mulder’s hazel eyes and prominent nose. Mulder began to speak.

“Commander Scully, I realize you may question my motivation in contacting you, given our history. You probably think that I have abandoned my son and your sister. I can’t blame you for feeling that way. There are times when I think that maybe I have. Despite whatever misgivings you may harbor towards me, I want you to know that I left out of a deep love for them and concern for their safety. Given the nature of the danger I currently face, I am unable to return home to them at this time - at least not permanently. I do not know how long this separation will last, but it weighs heavily on my soul. I imagine you know a thing or two about long absences, in your line of work.” Mulder paused and fixed the camera with a long stare. Bill shifted uncomfortably in his chair, glad that his mother wasn’t around to hear her words echoed by Fox Mulder.

“Dana and William are all that matter to me in this world. They are the only family I have left. I long to see my son, to hold him close, and I ache for Dana’s embrace. I come to you, at Christmastime, asking for your help. I have a small window of time to see them, but for the safety of everyone involved, it must be done secretly, preferably outside of DC.”

Bill’s eyes narrowed. He knew Mulder was paranoid, but this was outright ridiculous.

“The man who handed you this message - John Byers - is trustworthy. You may give him your response to this message. I understand if you refuse, and would not hold such a decision against you. But in the spirit of the season, I’m asking you, as a father, and as a man who loves and cares deeply for your sister: for one night - even for just one hour - please help me see them.”

The video ended, leaving Bill staring at a blank screen. A part of him wanted to throw up his hands and declare Fox Mulder certifiably insane. But Mulder’s genuine sincerity and willingness to be vulnerable made him hesitate. Not only did it recall his mother’s words to him, it also echoed a conversation he’d had with his father on his wedding day years before. “Having a family is challenging even under the best of circumstances, but the Navy makes it doubly so,” Bill Sr. had told his son. “Take every opportunity you have to be with yours. Even if it’s just for one day.” Three months later, his father was dead.

Bill frowned pensively, imagining what it would take to get Mulder to Dana. Before the September attacks, he could’ve driven Mulder onto the Yard by car, but now, ID checks were mandatory for all passengers - which flew in the face of the “secrecy” Mulder was requesting. As much as he wanted to chalk up Mulder’s entire scheme to a paranoid fantasy, he couldn’t risk the lives of Dana, William, and his own family. 

No, he thought, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. He’d either have to have Dana meet Mulder outside the Academy grounds, or bring him in another way. 

His computer chimed, alerting him to a new email in his inbox. It was from Charlie. 

_Hey there, Big Brother! Wanted to give you the bad news first, before Mom hears it and gets all bent out of shape. They’ve extended my squadron’s deployment through January, so instead of fighting with you over who gets to carve the turkey on Christmas, I’ll be dropping a payload of ‘Season’s Greetings’ on those Taliban sons of bitches . I’m sorry that I won’t be there with the family. Give everyone my love - especially my new nephew._

_\- Charlie_

Bill sighed. He was sorry to be deprived of Charlie’s carefree antics and bawdy aviator humor this year. But even without the recent invasion of Afghanistan by US forces, the chances of Charlie making it home for Christmas had been a long shot: F-14 Tomcat squadrons had one of the most intense deployment schedules in the Navy. 

Later that evening, after they’d put the kids to bed, Bill told Tara the news about Charlie, then asked, “What do you think about inviting Dana and little William for Christmas?”

“I think it’s a wonderful idea!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together happily. “You mom will be thrilled, especially now that Charlie can’t come. I’m surprised you didn’t bring it up sooner.”

“I was just reminded of it today,” he said, avoiding his wife’s eyes and searching for an excuse. “I got so caught up in the end of the semester and grading papers, I guess I lost track of the calendar.”

It worked: Tara smiled and shook her head at her husband’s apparent absent-mindedness. “Oh, by the way,” she said, getting up from the couch. “I was going to drop off your extra set of dress blues at the tailor to get your Commander’s stripe sewn on.”

Bill looked up to see Tara holding his uniform jacket. His spare winter uniform still sported the striping of a Lieutenant Commander, even though he’d put on Commander nearly six months ago. And that’s when the idea came to him. He rose and took the jacket from her.

“Thanks, sweetie, but it can wait until the Brigade is back from the holiday break. No rush.”

******

Byers was waiting for Bill outside of Bancroft Hall the following day. 

“Tell Mulder that I’ll meet him at 0630 at the Seven-Eleven outside of Gate 8,” he said. Byers nodded in the affirmative. 

“And one more thing,” Bill said, before Byers turned to leave. “Tell him to lose the beard and cut his hair. The Navy has standards.”


	2. Chapter 2

December 23, 2001  
36 Upshur Road, US Naval Academy  
3:24pm

It was all the same. Besides the nameplates on the porch stairs, the stately brick houses that lined the parade ground of Worden Field looked exactly as they had when she was a little girl. Scully was eight when they had arrived in Annapolis from San Diego. The Scully family had occupied 36 Upshur Road for three years while Bill Scully, Sr. served as Executive Assistant to the Superintendent of the Naval Academy. Now, it was Bill Scully, Jr. and his family who occupied 36 Upshur Road. Bill had accepted a teaching position in the Leadership and Ethics Department at the Academy. 

Scully, no longer eight, stared out the foggy window of Bill’s Jeep Cherokee at the row of familiar houses. Several inches of snow lay on the ground, and judging from the low-hanging grey clouds above, more was on the way.

“Brings back memories, doesn’t it?” Bill had a knack for stating the obvious. 

“Yeah, it sure does. I can’t believe they assigned you the same quarters as Dad.” 

“I may have made a special request with the Housing Office.” Bill looked over and gave her a knowing wink before getting out to retrieve her luggage from the trunk. She opened the door to the back seat and unbuckled William from his car seat. He’d fallen asleep on the ride up from Georgetown, but was now wide awake, his bright eyes taking in his new surroundings.

“I put you two up in your old room, Dana.”

Scully craned her neck to gaze up at the single window on the third storey. She and Melissa had shared the room until their parents decided that Missy - after years of her insisting - was finally old enough to have her own room. The day Missy moved downstairs, Scully had taped a sign to the door announcing that First Mate Starbuck was now the sole occupant of the Crow’s Nest; all others must knock.

It was surreal, being back here, as an adult, and with a child of her own. The happy memories of childhood and past Christmases felt out of place without the man with whom she’d made her own family. 

Bill stopped to open the door to the front porch. “Have you heard anything from Mulder?” he asked as she passed by. It was the first time Bill had inquired about Mulder since his disappearance earlier that year, and it caught her off-guard.

“No, not for a while, now.” She tried to keep her voice flat, belying the emotional maelstrom that churned inside of her. Seven months - seven months and thirteen days, to be precise - since she and Mulder last held William in their arms together. Seven months and thirteen days since she’d felt his comforting presence lying next to her in bed. Seven months and thirteen days since her last glimpse of him, climbing into the Lone Gunmen’s van outside her apartment, bound for a destination so secret, even she didn’t know. 

When Scully had submitted her vacation request to Skinner earlier in December, he’d extended it to include the whole week between Christmas Eve and New Years. 

“Go and be with your family this Christmas,” he’d said, fixing her with a gaze that indicated that it wasn’t a request that he was making.

“You and I both know that’s impossible.” 

The bitter words had escaped her mouth by their own volition. Four months had passed since she last had contact with Mulder, and while he’d given no indication in his last correspondence that he was in danger, it was the longest interval between messages so far. The days, months, of agonizing absence and separation had eroded her characteristic restraint. Her nights were spent in a sleepless, surreal rotation of fervent prayers for Mulder’s safety, worried fantasies of what might have happened to him, and feeding William. Whatever measure of forbearance she once possessed now lay in tatters. 

Skinner’s reaction to her scathing remark had been to sigh, close his eyes and lift up his glasses to massage the bridge of his nose. “I meant your family, Scully,” he said, opening his eyes to meet hers. “Have William get to know his cousins. Let your mother enjoy being a grandmother. Let yourself be surrounded by the ones who love you.”

It wasn’t his words that had cut deepest - it was the look of pity he’d given her as he said them. She’d managed to say, “Thank you, sir,” before rushing out of the office to compose herself. 

As luck - or fate - would have it, Bill had called the next day to invite her and William to stay with him, Tara, and the kids for the holidays. “Mom’s going to be there, too,” he’d said, a bit too enthusiastically for her liking. It occurred to her that perhaps Skinner had called Bill out of concern for his struggling, single-mother Agent. The last thing she’d wanted was a sympathy invite from her older brother. 

“Look,” Bill had said, after several uncomfortable seconds of silence from her end. “I know it can be hard, taking care of a kid by yourself. But you’re not alone in this, Dana. Tara and Mom: they’ve been there. They know what you’re going through.” 

Fat chance, she’d thought bitterly, tightening her grip on the phone. Yet Bill could be forgiven for thinking that she, Tara, and her mother stood on common ground, given the story she’d told them to account for Mulder’s absence: he’d accepted an assignment overseas, the duration of which was unknown. The escalation of FBI activity in the three months since the terrorist attacks in New York and DC had provided convenient credibility to that narrative. It wasn’t dissimilar from the long deployments Bill undertook every couple of years. Her father had spent at least a third of his naval career at sea - nearly ten years away from his family. Maybe Bill did have a point, regardless of the circumstances of Mulder’s absence.

“Besides,” he’d said, still trying to convince her. “It’ll be a chance for William to see the Yard, his mom’s old stomping grounds.” 

Scully could feel her reluctance slowly melting away. Her time living on “the Yard” was one of the happiest and most carefree periods of her life. She recalled memories of roller skating with Melissa in the alleyway behind Upshur Road. Of selling lemonade to thirsty midshipmen and their parents during Commissioning Week. Of summer days spent crabbing with Bill and Charlie along the Academy seawall. Of peering down into the murky, brackish water of the Severn River as Bill slowly, painstakingly pulled up the length of string, all of them hoping to see telltale blue claws clinging to the chicken bone they’d tied to the end. The only care they had back then was to make sure they were home in time for dinner. Perhaps reconnecting with the happy haunts of her childhood - and sharing it with William - would provide the respite that she so desperately needed.

Now, two days before Christmas, Bill had braved the snow - and the even more treacherous DC holiday traffic - to pick up Scully and William from their home in Georgetown. 

Bill put the bags down and glanced over at her. “He’s probably been busy with the fallout of the terrorist attacks,” he said, assuming his confident older brother tone. “I’m sure he’s ok.”

“Yes, I’m sure he is,” she replied, still wondering at Bill’s apparent softening towards Mulder. Maybe it was because of William, and the bonds of fatherhood they now shared. Bill had seemed to take her pregnancy - and William’s subsequent birth - in stride. To his credit, he never once asked her if Mulder was the father. Perhaps his previous disdain for Mulder had cooled to merely disappointed resignation when he realized that, for better or worse, Mulder was now a permanent fixture in his younger sister’s life. Or perhaps it was simply that Bill had decided to embrace the Christmas spirit; she’d seen stranger things in her time on the X-Files. 

She was spared any further discussion of Mulder as the front door opened and they were greeted by Scully’s exuberant sister-in-law, who engulfed her and William in a tight hug. 

Tara beamed at the two of them. “Dana! Merry Christmas! So happy you and William could make it!” She wore a cheerful red apron dusted with flour. Santa hat earrings dangled garishly from her ears. 

“Sorry to cover you in flour,” Tara said, laughing sheepishly as she let go. “But I was just rolling out pie dough for Christmas dinner. I’m making Bill’s favorite, sweet potato pie, for dessert.”

Scully smiled and allowed Tara to take William as she turned to her mother, who stood beside Tara in the doorway. 

Maggie Scully embraced her daughter tightly. “I’m happy you’re both here,” she murmured soothingly. Scully found herself unwilling to let go as tears sprung unbidden to her eyes. They had never spoken about it, but Scully had a suspicion that her mother knew that Mulder’s absence was no mere re-assignment - that something much more serious had forced his abrupt departure from her daughter and grandson’s lives. 

Behind her mother in the foyer stood an immaculately decorated Christmas tree. It was huge - easily ten feet tall. The sound of giggling drew her eyes upward. Two small red-headed boys were kneeling behind the bannister on the second floor. They had stuck their hands through the rails and were attempting to whack the angel - nearly level with them - off the top of the tree with an empty wrapping paper tube. 

“What’d I tell you two?” Tara called up to her sons in an exasperated tone. “I’d hate to give Santa a bad report about your behavior, and for you boys to find coal instead of presents in your stocking on Christmas morning.” 

Scully smiled at Tara’s words. Her mother had once made a similar threat to Bill and Charlie one Christmas, after she’d caught them trying to hide their sisters’ Barbie dolls in the inner recesses of the tree. 

Tara Scully’s threat had its intended effect: Matthew and Mark immediately ceased their sabotage of the family Christmas tree and instead turned their attention to the goings-on downstairs.

“Hey! Aunt Dana and William are here!” Matthew exclaimed, dropping the cardboard tube and bounding down the stairs. 

Mark, still unsteady on his toddler legs, came down on his bottom, one step at a time. They each enthusiastically hugged one of their aunt’s legs, then bent over to look at their new cousin. William smiled up at Matthew and Mark from his carrier, laughing in delight at the funny faces his cousins made. 

Bill appeared holding two glasses of eggnog and handed one to her. “It’s not Christmas without Aunt Olive’s eggnog,” he said, then raised his glass. “To family, near and far.”

A sad but appreciative smile crossed her features as she raised her own glass in return. “To family,” she said softly.

******

December 24, 2001  
Annapolis, MD  
6:33 am

The beat-up Volkswagen van was too crowded for five grown men to all fit, so Byers stood shivering outside while Bill climbed in. It was even more run-down inside and smelled of sweat and stale coffee. Mulder sat in the back row, silently watching as Bill took a seat in front of him. With his hair trimmed and beard gone, he looked more like the FBI Agent Bill had known, but only marginally so. His face was drawn, leaner than before, a thousand cares etched across his features. His clothes were stained and ripped in several places. For a moment, Bill felt a stab of pity for the man. 

Mulder broke the silence. “Merry Christmas.” His greeting was flat, with an edge of weariness to it.

“Yes. Merry Christmas.” Not knowing what else to say, Bill reached into the duffel bag he’d brought and handed Mulder a white Oxford shirt, a set of Navy dress blues, and an officer’s cover. “Put that on.”

“Isn’t this breaking some article of the Uniform Code of Military Justice?” asked the man sitting in the driver’s seat. His skeptical tone matched the dubious look on Mulder’s face.

Bill glanced at the balding, diminutive man. “For starters, this isn’t a complete uniform. I took all service ribbons and other merit-based devices off of it before I left this morning. Second,” Bill said, turning his attention back to Mulder, “you won’t be spending much time out where you’d be noticed. You’ll spend most of the day waiting in my office in Bancroft Hall. And when you are outside, you’ll keep your bridge coat and cover on to blend in.”

Bill spoke to Mulder as he would a clueless junior Sailor, but instead of a snarky rejoinder, Mulder simply nodded. He proceeded to change clothes while Bill gave further directions. “You’ll wait until 2130, when you’ll leave to meet us in front of the Chapel. That’s nine thirty p.m., by the way.”

Mulder nodded. “Thanks for the reminder.”

Bill continued. “The Chapel is just a few hundred yards’ walk from Bancroft, so I don’t expect you to encounter anyone. This place is deader than Davy Jones’ Locker at Christmas. But if you do meet someone, do not - I repeat, do _not_ \- speak to them. If they outrank you, salute them first, wait for a response, then continue on your way. If it’s a junior officer or midshipman, wait for them to initiate the salute before returning it.”

Mulder, his dress shirt still unbuttoned, threw up his hand in a half-hearted mock salute. “Sir, yes, sir.” Bill rolled his eyes, but inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. Despite whatever trials Mulder may have faced this past year, he was still the same cocky son-of-a-bitch as before. 

“Mass should end a little before 2130,” he continued. “The plan is to wait until the church crowd has dispersed, then I’ll send my mom and Tara back home with the kids. That’ll leave just me, Dana, and William. Wait until Mom and Tara are out of sight before approaching us.”

Mulder paused in knotting his tie and fixed Bill with a somber stare. “How are they?”

Bill hesitated, uncomfortable with the sudden intensity of Mulder’s gaze and the seriousness with which he asked the question. “They’re both fine,” he replied at length, then added, “William - he looks like you.”

For the first time since receiving news of Dana’s cancer remission four years earlier, Bill saw Fox Mulder smile. 

“They’re checking IDs at the gate, so I can’t risk driving you on. You’ll be going in a different way,” Bill said once Mulder had finished changing.

“Airdrop? An amphibious assault?” Bill glared at the long-haired hippy sitting beside him. 

_These guys clearly don’t get out much,_ he thought, _if they think everyone in the Navy is Spec Ops._

“No,” he said, once more addressing Mulder. “You’re going underground.” 

Bill got out of the van and walked over to a steam vent on the far side of the alley. Mulder and the Gunmen followed. Bill bent down and pulled up the grate. Mulder peered down into the steam-filled darkness. “I picked the wrong day to leave my flashlight in my other fake uniform,” Bill heard him mutter. He handed Mulder his Mag-Lite. 

“This steam tunnel leads onto the Yard. Walk straight for about fifteen minutes, then take your first right. Follow the passage until you get to a set of double doors. They’re unlocked. You’ll see a ladder on the other side. That will take you up to Worden Field. How familiar are you with the Yard?”

“A little. I spent some time in the Academy hospital recovering from my… injuries, last year. Dana showed me around.”

“Good. Make your way across the field to Bancroft as quickly as you can. I’ll be waiting for you there to let you in.”

“How do I look?” 

Bill eyed Mulder from head to toe. Bill had lost weight recently, and his old uniform was clearly too big for Mulder’s slender frame. 

“You look like a bag of trash,” he said evenly. 

“I should fit right in, then.” 

Bill chuckled in spite of himself. 

Mulder had nearly disappeared down the vent before Bill stopped him. “Hey, Mulder.” 

Bill unfastened the pin bearing the Scully surname from his own uniform and tossed it to him. “In case anyone asks, you’re Lieutenant Commander Charles Scully, home on family leave.” 

Mulder attached it to his bridge coat. “Is this your way of ensuring I don’t snog your sister?”

“Get going. I’ll see you on the Yard.”


	3. Chapter 3

December 24, 2001  
36 Upshur Road  
7:21 am

Christmas Eve dawned grey and gloomy. Scully lay in bed, listening to the soft breathing of William sleeping beside her in his travel crib. She’d fed him a few hours previously, then had dropped off into an uneasy slumber. Now awake, her thoughts turned, as they inevitably did in the small morning hours, to Mulder. She wondered how he would be spending Christmas - and where. 

She’d gathered from his last correspondence that he was somewhere hot and dry; one of the Southwestern states, if she had to guess. When she was in contact with him, their correspondence had been abbreviated, limited to generalities, especially from Mulder’s end. His responses were often single words, conveying only the barest of essentials: “Alive.” “Safe.” “Still breathing.” “Heartbroken.” That last response had come after Scully broke the news about the Yankees losing the World Series that year. 

Mulder’s longest and most recent correspondence had arrived in the form of a letter four months prior - the only handwritten letter he’d sent since his departure. Frohike had delivered it to her door. She’d since memorized most of what he’d written, in particular the last paragraph:

_One luxury I now find myself possessing in abundance is time. Time to think of you, and William, and what I’m missing. Every day that passes is a missed opportunity: to see my son’s first steps. To hear his first words. To be the kind of father I wish I’d had. I fear that I won’t even get the chance to try. If I have any hope left, Scully, it’s that our son’s life - and ours - will be a happy one, someday. A life in which the only monsters he has to fear are the ones lurking under his bed. I long for the time when, finally, we can be together. As a family._

That was the last she’d heard from him. 

Her melancholy reverie was broken by the sound of William stirring in his crib. With a sigh, she rose and put on her bathrobe. 

“Good morning, sweetie,” she said to him, picking him up and walking over to the window. It looked out on Worden Field, where the midshipmen held dress parades in the fall and spring. It was now covered in a pristine white blanket from last night’s snowfall. Beyond the field was College Creek. A small wooden footbridge spanned the creek to Hospital Point and the Naval Hospital. The same hospital where - against every conceivable likelihood - Mulder had come back to life. 

Her mind drifted.

******

It was half a mile from the naval hospital to Worden Field; short enough that Mulder wouldn’t overtax himself, but long enough to ensure he’d make progress in his physical therapy regimen. And given how her feet swelled even in tennis shoes, she was glad for the short distance. Her due date was barely a month away, and the baby’s weight was beginning to take a toll on her body.

They walked slowly across the field, pausing every now and again for Mulder to catch his breath.

“You lived here as a kid, right?” he asked, stopping in the middle of the field. 

She nodded. “For three years. As a matter of fact, we lived in that house,” she said, pointing to 36 Upshur Road. “Third one on the left.”

“Pretty swank for government housing,” he observed.

“Oh!” She stopped at the sudden jolt that came from inside her. She put a hand to her stomach. Then she felt another sensation: a hand clutching her shoulder. Mulder’s grip was surprisingly strong for a man who just three weeks prior was, for all intents and purposes, a dead man.

“Scully?” Mulder said her name in a quiet, worried tone.

“No, it’s all right. It’s… I felt the baby kick.” She glanced up at him; his face held less panic than it had a moment ago, but he still held her shoulder, as if he didn’t quite believe her. 

“Here,” she said, and pulled his hand away from her shoulder and placed it on her belly. “He’s still moving.”

She watched his face light up in wonder as the child inside her made its vitality known to both of them. His expression then changed to one of confusion.

“Did you say ‘he’?” Mulder asked.

She nodded, smiling. 

He stared wordlessly at her for several moments, his hand still on her stomach. “A boy,” he said softly, wondrously. 

That’s when she reached up and kissed him. 

******

The scene reverted to the present as a uniformed figure entered her field of vision. His black overcoat stood in stark contrast to the snow, his figure small against the vast expanse as he trudged across Worden Field in the direction of the Chapel and academic buildings. He was too far away and too bundled up for her to clearly make out his features, but she could see the tell-tale gold stripes on his shoulders that signified him as an officer. A thrill of recognition coursed through her, and for a brief moment, she thought it might be Bill. Not tall enough, she decided after another moment of observation. 

Besides Bill, she knew only one other officer currently serving: her other, younger brother, Charlie. And it certainly wasn’t Charlie. He was currently deployed on a carrier in the Indian Ocean, for starters. It was a sore subject with her mother, who was crestfallen that Charlie would miss another Christmas away from his family. Moreover, Charlie was instantly recognizable - even at a distance - by his vibrant red hair; it had earned him the call sign “Carrot” in flight school. 

The sensation that she knew the man only increased when he paused midfield in his solitary sojourn, nearly right in front of the house. If it wasn’t Bill or Charlie, then who was this man, she wondered. What was he doing out on Christmas Eve, when the rest of the Academy staff were home with their families? Did he have a family? Did he see the two of them - a mother and her child - looking down at him, returning his gaze?

“Where are you, Mulder?” It was no more than a whisper, but the question hung in the air, heavy and insistent like the winter clouds above.

The officer lingered for another moment before resuming his trek across the field.

******

Scully and William made their way downstairs to the kitchen. Tara and Maggie were sitting at the table, drinking coffee. Mark and Matthew sat at the counter, each drawing in a Pokemon coloring book - an early Christmas gift from their grandmother. The remains of their breakfasts had been pushed aside. Matthew’s face was an expression of intense concentration as he carefully colored between the lines of Charizard’s face; his younger brother took a more casual approach, making big strokes across the page with a green crayon clutched in his tiny hand.

“Good morning.” Maggie Scully got up from the table to give her daughter and grandson a hug. Maggie pulled back and frowned. 

“What’s the matter?” she asked quietly. Decades of practice had given her mother an uncanny ability to sense when her children were sad or unhappy.

“Nothing,” Scully lied. She’d also had years to perfect the art of deflecting her mother’s scrutinies. 

She noticed another empty breakfast plate on the table. “Where’s Bill?” she asked, as she let her mom take William and place him in a high-chair beside her. 

Tara had also gotten up from the table to grab the coffee pot and an extra mug. “He left for the office early this morning,” she said, setting the mug down in front of Scully and filling it to the brim.

“He has to teach today? I thought the Brigade was gone for the holidays.” 

“They are. He said that he had to meet last-minute with a VIP visiting the Academy.” Tara didn’t bother to conceal her frustration. “I’ll bet it’s some big-headed admiral who doesn’t even realize that it’s Christmas Eve.” Maybe the officer she saw on the field was Bill, after all, she thought. Or the man Bill intended to meet.

“Your father-in-law had to deal with a couple of Admiral Scrooges when he was here,” Maggie said as she fastened a bib around William’s neck. 

Matthew looked up from his coloring. “Mom, can we go outside and play in the snow?”

Tara smiled. “Yes, but you boys need to change out of your pajamas first.”

The boys immediately jumped down from their seats and ran up the stairs. “Make sure you help your brother, Matthew!” Tara called after them.

Within minutes, Matthew and Mark were decked out in their snow clothes. Scully barely had time to jump out of the way as they dashed through the open door and out into the snow. The silence of the winter morning was broken by her nephews whooping with delight as they tossed handfuls of snow into the air. They were soon joined by other neighborhood kids. William, watching his cousins and their friends from the front window, laughed at their antics. 

Presently, she noticed Matthew pause and look down the street. A man in uniform was making his way towards them. Definitely Bill this time, she thought, watching his approach. He’d inherited their father’s broad shoulders and tall frame.

She watched as Matthew and Mark rushed towards their father, who knelt down and scooped them both up in a big hug. She could hear her brother’s hearty laugh through the closed window and smiled. Bill was always happiest when he was with his kids. 

The front door opened. “I’m home!” Bill hollered, stomping his shoes against the mat to rid them of snow. Then he noticed his sister and William standing inside. 

“Morning, sis. Merry Christmas Eve,” he said, stepping inside and shrugging off his heavy wool uniform coat. He gave her a brief but intense one-armed hug.

Tara joined them in the foyer. “Thanks for understanding, sweetie,” Bill said, giving her a conciliatory kiss. “It was an unexpected request, but very important.” Scully noticed Bill give her the briefest of glances as he spoke, then just as quickly he looked back at Tara. 

“I’m just glad you’re back,” Tara said with a smile, her tone much softer than earlier. 

“Dana, I’m gonna change into some civvies, then I’m joining the boys outside to build a snowman. Wanna join us?”

“I’d better stay inside with William,” she said, not wanting to impinge on Bill’s time with his kids. Given his unexpected absence this morning, it seemed like he didn’t get that much time with them, even with a shore assignment to the Academy.

“Come on, Dana. It’ll be fun,” he encouraged. “Remember how many snowmen we built out there on the parade field after that huge snowstorm in ‘75?”

Scully smiled at the memory. “Nine. We were in competition with the Sullivan kids down the street.”

“And the Scullys prevailed upon the field that day.”

“Mom and I are happy to watch William, if you want to go,” Tara offered. Her mood had clearly improved with Bill’s return. “We’ll get him dressed and bring him outside in a little while.” 

“Come on, Dad! Come on, Aunt Dana!” Matthew and Mark stood in front of the window, gesturing impatiently for the adults to join them outside. 

“I guess I’d better join you,” she said, giving William to Tara. “Someone’s got to teach these boys the proper snowman building technique.”

She spent the better part of the morning on Worden Field, rolling and stacking balls of snow with Bill and her nephews. A light-hearted snowball fight broke out at one point between her and Bill; she quickly gained the upper hand as Matthew and Mark joined the onslaught against their father. 

Tara, Maggie, and William came out to inspect the final product. “He needs something to keep him warm out here,” Maggie observed. She pulled off her blue and gold Naval Academy scarf and wrapped it around the snowman.

Satisfied with their efforts, the Scully clan started back to the house. Bill, Tara and the kids walked ahead of Maggie, Scully, and William; Mark rode high on his father’s shoulders, while Matthew held his mother’s hand. 

Scully blinked, and Bill and his family suddenly vanished. In their place was William, a little older than he was now, sitting atop his father’s shoulders. Mulder held his son’s legs securely as he bounced him up and down. William shrieked with laughter. She saw herself, walking beside them in the snow, laughing along with them. Mulder stopped walking and bent down to kiss her.

Scully’s breath caught in her chest, and she clutched William close. 

“Christmastime was always the hardest, when your dad was away.” Maggie Scully spoke as if watching the same scene as her daughter. 

“I miss him, Mom,” was all she could say in response. “I don’t know where he is, or when - or if - he’ll be back.” There was so much she wanted to say, to confide her secret sorrows and anxieties, but was unable to choke out more words. Her mother put a comforting arm around her.

“Don’t give up hope,” Maggie said, squeezing her tightly. “You’ve been on the receiving end of so many miracles.”

The family deposited damp boots, coats, and gloves in front of the fireplace to dry, then headed into the kitchen for grilled cheeses and tomato soup. 

The rest of the afternoon passed in what Scully could only describe as domestic holiday bliss. Bill donned an apron and Santa hat as he prepared the turkey for tomorrow’s dinner. Her mom sat at the table with William on her lap and read a book aloud to him, while Tara busied herself with pulling out the family silver and setting the dining room table. Scully rolled out dough for sugar cookies and helped her nephews frost Christmas trees and gingerbread men. 

“Look, Aunt Dana!” Matthew held up a freshly frosted gingerbread man for her to see. “It’s Uncle Mulder!” She could make out the letters “F B I” scrawled in red frosting across the cookie’s chest. She smiled in an attempt to hold back tears at her nephew’s unexpected tribute to his uncle. “It looks just like him, Matthew,” she said, “I wish he could be here for you to give it to him.”

“Me too,” Matthew said, solemnly placing it on the plate with the rest of the cookies. She noticed Bill watching them from his position at the stove; she hurriedly wiped her eyes on her apron and started to gather the cookie cutters and dirty mixing bowls for washing up.


	4. Chapter 4

December 24, 2001  
US Naval Academy  
9:37 pm

It started snowing again during Mass. The Chapel steps were blanketed in a fresh inch of powder when the doors swung open and parishioners poured out into the chilly Christmas Eve night. The Scully family had sat near the altar during the service and now found themselves at the back of the exiting throng; by the time they passed through the imposing bronze doors, most of the crowd had dispersed. 

Scully looked out from the top of the steps. A few people still lingered in front of the Chapel, talking in small huddles of twos and threes. Across the street, a solitary officer lingered under a street lamp, rubbing his gloved hands together and stamping his feet in an effort to keep warm. 

Bill held William in his baby carrier as he and Scully carefully made their way down the slick steps. Her mother, Tara, and the kids waited for them at the bottom. 

“Why don’t you guys go on ahead and get the kids ready for bed?” Bill suggested to Tara and Maggie. “Dana and I will walk back together. A trip down memory lane.” 

“Sure. Do you want me to take William with us?” Tara asked, turning to Scully. “The temperature’s really dropped over the past hour.”

Bill jumped in before she could reply. “Nah, he’ll be fine. He’s all bundled up, and it’s a short walk home.”

Instead of her usual annoyance at Bill’s older brother routine, Scully found herself appreciating this gesture of intimacy. She gave him a smile.

The area in front of the Chapel was now completely empty, save for the three of them and the lone officer across the street. She glanced over at the man. He’d stopped rubbing his hands and was now looking in their direction. His brimmed officer’s cover and the falling snow obscured his face, but Scully felt the same sense of familiarity, of knowing, as she’d had of the man who’d stopped on Worden Field that morning. Adrenaline surged through her when she realized they were the same person. 

As if on cue, the officer started across the street towards them. Instinctively, she moved to put herself between the man and William, reaching for her gun, only to realize she’d left it back in her apartment in Georgetown. She glanced at Bill, who still held William in his carrier. He too had his eye on the man, but did not seem concerned at his approach. Perhaps he was a friend of Bill’s, she thought warily.

“Merry Christmas, Scully.”

She whirled around, and there, not three feet away from her, stood Mulder. 

Mulder, whose face she could pick out instantly in a crowded bullpen hallway, had somehow rendered himself invisible, dressed in the familiar uniform of her brothers. The “Scully” name tag on his jacket only added to her confusion. A disguise, she realized, after several muddled seconds. Mulder hiding in plain sight. He’d even cut his hair to look the part. 

In the time it took for her mental dissonance to resolve, he’d closed the gap between them, and she felt his arms close tightly around her. She buried her face in his chest; the wool of Mulder’s borrowed coat felt rough against her frostbitten cheeks. She felt his chin come to rest on top of her head. Time slowed to a crawl in their embrace. 

Eventually, Mulder loosened his grip, and leaned forward and kissed her tenderly on the cheek. He spoke softly into her ear, “I hear the Scully women are suckers for a man in uniform, but remember, I’m supposed to be your little brother, Charlie, home on leave. So keep it G-rated, G-Woman, or else my cover’s blown.” 

She laughed, vainly trying to wipe away her tears. “How did you-”

“I got in touch with Bill - the very last person they’d imagine I’d have contact with,” he said, using a gloved finger to gently brush away the tears from her cheek. “The Lone Gunmen helped me to contact him. We came to a sort of understanding, Bill and I.” 

At this, Scully looked incredulously at Bill, who had retreated a few feet out of respect for his sister and her partner. He managed a small smile. 

Mulder continued. “Having me pose as your prodigal brother was his idea, although I’ve been told that I lack the characteristic Scully hair color to truly play the part.” 

She stared at Mulder, then back at Bill, still speechless. She wasn’t an expert on military law, but she was relatively confident that having a civilian pose as a Naval officer violated at least one article of the Uniform Code of Military Justice. 

Bill cleared his throat, as if preparing to deliver a well-rehearsed speech. “I know how much you missed him, Dana. How much you worried about him,” he said. “I knew he wasn’t on some ‘overseas assignment,’ like you told us, but that something forced him to leave.” 

“Mom and Tara? Do they know?” She asked, suddenly fearing that they had inadvertently put the entire family at risk. 

“No. I didn’t want to risk telling them. The VIP I told Tara I was meeting this morning was a cover. You know that Mulder and I haven’t exactly seen eye to eye,” he said. “But I know he left to keep you and William safe. That’s something I can understand and respect as a father. I’ve been through more deployments than I care to count. I know what it’s like to be away from your loved ones during the holidays, to miss seeing your kids grow up. Christmas is a time to be with family,” he said, once more looking at Mulder, then back to her. “And he’s family now, for better or worse.” 

Mulder nodded. “Thank you,” he said, and Scully realized it was an acknowledgement of how much pride Bill had swallowed to bring him here tonight, to say those words. He then looked down at William, whom Bill had placed beside Scully. He bent down and took him into his arms. 

Mulder gazed at his son for what seemed like an eternity, wonder etched on his face. William stared up at him with his characteristically intense gaze, then eventually flashed him a tiny, toothless grin. Mulder smiled in delight, letting him clutch a gloved finger. 

“Kid’s got a hell of a grip.”

Scully, having given up fighting her tears, embraced both of them. They stood motionless under the streetlamp as the snow continued to fall. To the few passersby, the sight of a man in uniform hugging his family was a heartwarming - if not particularly remarkable - scene on the Yard, especially on Christmas Eve.

Eventually, her brother’s voice broke the silence. “Dana, we should get going. Mom and Tara will be wondering where we are.” 

“How _did_ you get in here?” she asked, eyeing Mulder, then Bill. Security around the Academy had been tight ever since the attacks in September. Marine guards in body armor wielding M-16s performed mandatory ID checks and random vehicle inspections at the gates; they’d even searched Bill’s car when he came through with her and William the day before. It would’ve taken a Christmas miracle for Mulder to pass through unnoticed and unchallenged, even if he were in uniform. 

Bill spoke first. “I brought him in on the Ho Chi Minh Trail.” That statement earned him another incredulous stare from Scully. The dubiously named trail was, in fact, a series of decades-old steam tunnels that ran below Bancroft Hall and several other buildings on the Yard. Several of the passageways ended outside the Academy walls; midshipmen would occasionally use the derelict corridors as an escape route for unauthorized nights on the town. For the kids living on the Yard, to enter the dimly lit bowels of the Ho Chi Minh Trail was the ultimate dare. Now, Bill Scully, Jr. - a professor of Ethics - had used it to smuggle a man onto a military installation. A Christmas miracle, indeed.

****** 

Bill led them around the back of the house. “Take Mulder up the back staircase to your room,” he said, unlocking the kitchen door.

“Won’t Mom and Tara notice that I’m gone?” Dana asked.

“They’ll be busy putting the boys to bed. I’ll tell them that you snuck upstairs to take a long-distance call from him. They won’t expect to see you and William until tomorrow morning.” He turned to Mulder. “Be dressed and ready to leave at 0630,” he said. 

Mulder nodded. “Thank you,” he said, and extended a gloved hand to Bill. He took it.

“Anything for family,” he replied, meeting Mulder’s eyes with a steady gaze. 

Bill felt arms suddenly envelop him in a hug. “Thanks, Bill,” Dana said against his chest. 

He squeezed her small frame affectionately. “Merry Christmas, sis.”

******

They climbed the stairs to the third floor as quietly as they could, stepping lightly, careful to avoid any creaking floorboards. Scully put William, now asleep, in his crib. Mulder stood beside her. His hand went to the small of her back and she drew in a quick breath at the sensation of his touch. It felt raw, as if he were touching an open wound. She still couldn’t believe that he was here, now, on Christmas Eve. 

“Bill mentioned this was your room as a kid,” he said. His eyes were fixed on their sleeping son. 

“Yes. I called it the Crow’s Nest.”

“At least you’re not still sleeping in your old twin bed, otherwise it’d be a tight fit tonight.” 

She managed a small smile at the joke, but found herself swallowing a lump that had suddenly formed in her throat. Now that they were alone, the reality of his return - and what it meant - had started to sink in. 

Mulder moved to take off his jacket and began to loosen his tie. In that moment, he was simultaneously familiar and foreign to her: standing there in a dress shirt and necktie, he looked as she’d always known him: as the single-minded, infuriatingly stubborn Special Agent Fox Mulder she’d worked with, bled for, and loved with a passion she never thought possible this side of Heaven. His face, however, revealed a man with whom she had yet to be acquainted: gaunt, weather-beaten, and tired, Mulder looked like he’d aged ten years. Perhaps this is what Captain Ahab looked like when he returned home from years at sea, she thought.

She realized after several moments that he too was looking at her in a similar manner, as if wondering what changes the past seven months had wrought on her life, and where he stood in relation to them. _We’ve been here before,_ she thought, as she recalled his miraculous resurrection after lying dead in the ground for nearly three months. _Will we ever stop being strangers to each other?_

“Mulder, I hadn’t heard from you. I was…” her voice trailed off before she found it again. “I was worried that something had happened to you.”

He stepped closer to her. She felt the gentle insistence of his fingers push her chin upwards so that he could look at her. “I’m sorry, Scully,” he said softly. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t contact you. I can only imagine how hard the past few months have been for you.”

_How much harder have they been on you,_ she wondered, staring at his sunken eyes, his hollowed cheeks. _What have you had to endure?_

She reached up with both hands to stroke his face. “Where have you been?” 

“With Gibson Praise, in New Mexico. We started in California, but had to move locations several times because we believed the New Syndicate had gotten wind of our presence. It wasn’t until we got in touch with Albert Hosteen’s son, Russell, four months ago - and he offered to let us stay on his land - that we felt safe enough to stay in one place. Those first few months, though…” he closed his eyes as if trying to banish some kind of painful memory. “I was terrified, Scully. Terrified that I’d never see you or William again. Gibson could feel their presence - the Super Soldiers - even when they were clear across the country. It was our only safeguard against them. Then one day, he woke up and could no longer detect them. He said it was like someone had turned off the signal, or severed the connection.”

“What does it mean?” 

“I don’t know. Gibson doesn’t know. But he felt that it was safe enough for me to contact you again. Even if the Super Soldiers are gone, though, the New Syndicate is around. It’s still dangerous for us, Scully.”

“Then why are you-”

He cut her short. “I couldn’t do it, Scully. I couldn’t stay away. It got to the point where the thought of another day without you, without William, was unbearable.” His voice became rough and his eyes were bright with unshed tears. “I needed to see you two, even if it was just for a day, for a moment, to remind myself that despite everything we’ve sacrificed, everything we’ve lost, we’ve created something new and beautiful in our son.” 

She kissed his forehead, then tilted his head so that she could kiss each of his eyes, then his mouth, as if in benediction; the salt taste of their mutual tears mingled with the sweetness of his lips. 

He responded with a fierce urgency, his tongue seeking refuge inside her mouth, his hands roaming across the contours of her body with stimulating force. His hand found its way under her shirt and tugged insistently at her bra strap until it gave way. She then felt him make his way to her breasts, grasping them gently but firmly, awakening within her a desire she hadn’t felt since his departure. She pressed against him and felt him grow hard in response. They undressed each other quickly, letting their clothes fall haphazardly on the bed and floor. 

She reached for him, her fingers gently tracing his full, erect length before she gripped him firmly. Her thumb grazed the head of his cock, and she heard him groan softly. Then his lips were moving down to her neck, her shoulders. He gently pushed her to the bed, where his mouth continued its exploration southward, eventually coming to rest in the warm, wet place between her thighs. She gasped as his tongue danced between her folds, her body quivering in anxious anticipation. She pulled on his arm, causing him to look up from his tender ministrations. 

“I need you, Mulder,” she whispered. He slowly crawled toward her, planting small kisses along the length of her stomach as he went, until his face hovered inches above hers. 

“I need you too, Scully. Now more than ever.” 

She rose to meet him as he pressed down carefully, slowly sliding into her. His fullness grew inside her, warm and tight, and she found herself raising her hips, taking more of him into her. 

“Scully.” He whispered her name, his lips against the velvet of her neck. “Scully…”

“I’m here,” she replied, stroking his short, silky hair.

Their breaths quickened as their movements became faster, more desperate. She wanted to meld with him, to disappear into this moment which seemed suspended between time and space. She felt the sweet agony rising within her and she tightened her embrace of him, both within and without. That was enough to send him over the edge; he gave a low groan before losing himself in sweet release. Suddenly she too was falling, falling into a realm of heat and light and pleasure. 

******

William’s crying woke both of them. “What’s wrong?” Mulder asked, his words slurred by sleepiness.

“He’s hungry.” 

She moved to get out of bed, but Mulder prevented her by pulling her closer to him. “Stay,” he murmured, his lips gently tickling her ear. “I’ll get him.”

She listened as he bent to pick William up from his crib. “Hey there, little man,” he said. “You’ve gotten big.”

She took William from him and unbuttoned the front of her pajamas so that he could feed. Mulder settled in next to them. 

“Do you ever sing to him?” He asked, tenderly stroking William’s head. 

She smiled. “Sometimes.”

The room was silent for a moment, then she heard Mulder’s voice, barely audible. “Jeremiah was a bullfrog… was a good friend of mine…”

“And I thought I was the one who couldn’t carry a tune.”

She heard him chuckle beside her in response. William, for his part, had taken his father’s attempt at singing for a lullaby and fallen asleep.

“What was your plan after getting here?”

“I don’t know. All I could think of was seeing you two. Everything else seemed… unimportant. The plan is to rendezvous with the Gunmen tomorrow morning. Frohike is working on getting some new identification, to make it easier to move around.” She made a mental note to kiss each one of the Gunmen the next time she saw them. 

“How much longer can you keep doing this, Mulder?” She asked, dreading his answer. 

Mulder remained silent for a long time, and she felt a heaviness descend upon the room. “I once thought I didn’t need anyone, that my search for the truth was enough to sustain me through any circumstance or difficulty I might encounter. That strategy served me well, for a while. But it ceased working the moment I meant you, Scully.”

He drew a long breath, then continued. “To return to that solitary existence was the most difficult thing I’ve ever done, for all the reasons I’ve told you in my letters. But knowing that it ensures your safety, and William’s… that’s why I did it, Scully, and why I’d do it again. Seeing both of you tonight - here, in your childhood home, surrounded by your family - confirms that.”

Silver moonlight illuminated his features, making him appear like a ghost out of one of Dickens’ novels. But ghosts were fleeting apparitions, present just long enough to deliver their messages before disappearing. Mulder was here, and she was done with disappearances. He had made his case. Now it was her turn.

“When we first discussed your leaving, we agreed that it would be temporary, that eventually, you would return home. And while I share your belief that danger still exists for us, this is no way to live, Mulder. Not for you, not for me, and especially not for our son.”

She was expecting an interjection, a fervent protest to her words, but Mulder kept silent. 

She continued. “You’re off the X-Files now. You’ve left the FBI. You haven’t shown up on anybody’s radar in the seven months you’ve been gone. I know that, because I’ve made the Gunmen give me near-daily briefings on your status. You’ve evaded both the Super Soldiers and the New Syndicate. If Gibson is telling you that the threat against you has dissipated, I’d believe him.” More silence from Mulder. 

“As for me…” she took a deep breath. “I’m done with the FBI, Mulder. I’m a third wheel down in that basement office these days. I’ve been offered a teaching position at Quantico, but my heart just isn’t in it anymore. I’ve looked into reentering clinical practice.” She paused, then said, quietly, “This is a chance for both of us to start over. A new life, on our own terms.” 

Silence once more descended upon the room.

“They’ll find us, eventually,” he said, after what seemed like ages. “It’s just a matter of when.” There was a measure of resignation, of weariness in his voice. She grasped his hand.

“I know that. But I also know you, Mulder. I know you’ll never stop fighting. If we have to face the darkness, then let’s do it as we always have: together.” She paused, then added, “As a family.” 

Mulder remained still beside her. Then she felt his lips press against hers in quiet assent. 

“Come home to us,” she whispered in his ear. 

He pressed his forehead against hers, wrapping his arms around both her and William. His head came to rest gently on her breast next to William. She stroked his hair until his breathing slowed to a sleeper’s cadence, then, for the first time in seven months and thirteen days, Dana Scully fell into an untroubled sleep.

******  
December 25, 2001  
6:26 am

Bill had just filled a thermos of coffee when Mulder entered the kitchen. 

“Merry Christmas,” Mulder said by way of greeting.

Bill frowned at Mulder’s disheveled appearance. He was supposed to be in uniform, ready to leave on the Ho Chi Minh Trail, but he was missing his coat and necktie; he wasn’t even wearing shoes. Bill opened his mouth, a chastisement ready on his lips, but stopped when his sister appeared behind Mulder with William in her arms. He stared at her bemusedly, waiting for an explanation. She smiled at him.

“Bill, if it’s OK with you, Mulder is going to spend Christmas here with us. We, uh…” she hesitated, giving Mulder an uncertain glance, as if not quite believing her own words.   
Mulder smiled reassuringly and took her hand.

“We’ve agreed that it’s time I came home. For good,” Mulder finished, his eyes focused on Dana as he spoke the words. Bill recognized the look. It was similar to the look a married couple shared on their wedding day, but it contained a maturity that came only after trial and separation. A unique combination of relief, happiness, and devotion, it was a gaze he’d become familiar with after nearly forty years of belonging to the Navy community. As a kid, he’d seen his parents share it when his father returned from months at sea; he’d given Tara the same, beaming smile Mulder now directed at his sister when he’d bounded down the gangplank of his first ship and had swept her up in his arms after an eight month deployment and asked her to marry him. And now, he saw it between his sister and the man she loved. _He’s family, now,_ he reminded himself, allowing a small smile to grace his lips. _For better or worse._

“Well, Mom and Tara will be surprised, that’s for sure,” he said, adopting a brighter tone as he poured the contents of his thermos into two mugs. “I’m assuming your friends got the message?” 

Mulder nodded. “Comet, Cupid, and Rudolph are back at the North Pole.”

“I’ve got some civvies you can borrow,” Bill said as he handed him one of the mugs and the other to Dana.

“Thanks,” Mulder replied. “I gotta say, I don’t know how you Navy boys stand all that polyester.”

“Try wearing it in July, when the humidity is ninety-eight percent.”

Mulder laughed. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“Now that you’re back, what do you plan to do?”

Mulder looked down into his coffee and was silent for a moment, as if unsure on how to answer Bill’s question. Then he smiled and looked over to where William sat in Dana’s lap. “For now, I just want to focus on being a father to my son.” 

He reached over to take Dana’s hand, who squeezed his tightly. “And being a partner to your sister… a different kind of partner.” He brought her hand to his lips. 

“Fox?” Maggie stood in the doorway dressed in a fuzzy lilac robe, her eyes wide in disbelief. She hugged Mulder warmly, then took his face between her hands. “Merry Christmas. Welcome home.” Her eyes glistened.

Mulder smiled and kissed her on the cheek. “Merry Christmas.”

Maggie then turned her attention to Bill. “You didn’t have anything to do with this, did you?” 

Dana broke in before he could stumble his way through an explanation. “Actually, Mom, Bill had everything to do with this.”

Mulder nodded. “I wouldn’t have made it here without him.” He raised his mug in Bill’s direction.

The sound of small, thudding feet caused them all to look up at the ceiling. “Santa came! Santa came!” Matthew’s muffled exclamations drifted down the stairs.

Bill smiled. “That’ll be the boys and Tara,” he said.

“Oh my goodness, Fox!” Tara swept into the kitchen and engulfed Mulder in a tight hug. “Merry Christmas! What a wonderful surprise!”

Tara, Bill, and Maggie filed out of the kitchen to where the boys were already tearing into their Christmas presents. Bill glanced back into the kitchen, where Mulder and his sister still lingered. Mulder was blowing raspberries at his son, who sat in Dana’s lap. William squealed in delight and reached out with his chubby hands to touch his father’s face. Mulder laughed and took him in his arms, hugging him tight against his chest. Bill watched as Mulder then took Dana’s hand and bent down to kiss her. Their foreheads met, resting against one another for several quiet moments. Bill smiled to himself, then turned back to where his own family was waiting for him.


End file.
